


Soul/less

by ellerkay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 04:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18296747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: Centering on Dean's experiences and emotions, this is a story in three parts: Dean and soulless Sam have sex before they know his soul is gone; Dean and soulless Sam have sex after they know his soul is gone; and Dean and Sam have sex after Sam's soul is restored.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dean and Sam Bingo, the Soulless!Sam square.
> 
> This takes place in the same universe as my previous work, [Better With You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17344229), but both stories can be read completely independently of one another.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place near the end of S6E3, "The Third Man."

"Fucking angels, man," Dean groaned, throwing his duffel bag on a bed. They'd just come from the altercation with Raphael and Balthazar. Sam had suggested hitting the road again, but Dean had nixed the idea. He was beat, and he wasn't about to let Sam drive the Impala when Dean had missed her so much this past year.

That wasn't the only reason he'd suggested they get a room for the night. This was the first time he'd been alone with Sam without the Campbells or a shapeshifting baby or a case that demanded their immediate attention. He'd missed Sam like he would miss a limb. More; it had felt like he'd been torn in half down the middle. It was like when Sam had died in his arms in that ghost town; only this time, Dean had thought there was really no coming back for his brother. He'd done his best to accept it. He'd built a good life, with people he cared about. He thought he could go on. Maybe do some good for Lisa and Ben. Live the life Sammy had wanted for him.

And now, impossibly, Sam was back. The ache in Dean's soul had been replaced by a different yearning. But things were so strange, with Lisa still in the picture and Sam acting oddly (how could he not have told Dean he was back? and yet it was like Sam to want him to be happy, to have a normal life...). And they hadn't really had an opportunity. But now, finally, it was easy to justify one more night away from home.

"I definitely could have driven us, Dean," Sam was saying.

"Sure," Dean said, heart thudding in his chest. "Figured we could use a night alone, though. Without a case or whatever." He put a hand on the small of Sam's back, feeling strangely hesitant. It wasn't like it would be the first time. But usually he was drunk, so this felt a little strange beyond his usual guilt and shame. But Dean didn't really think it was that he was sober. It was how untouchable Sam felt. The weird way Dean felt kind of intimidated by his brother. That had to just be because it'd been so long, right?

Sam went still for a second, then smiled at Dean. The smile seemed friendly enough, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. Those eyes were fixed on Dean, not quite calculating, but he definitely looked like he was trying to figure something out.

Sam grabbed Dean suddenly by the hips and pushed him back a couple steps. Dean hit the wall none too gently and sucked in a breath as Sam's lips landed on his. He kissed Sam back desperately, one hand clutching at Sam's back, the other in Sam's hair. Dean's head swam. Things were always intense with them, and Sam had been plenty aggressive before, but this was still more than he'd anticipated right out of the gate. He was surprised Sam didn't want to have a big discussion about it first.

Sam pulled back a few inches. "You sure about this?" he asked. "I didn't think you'd want to. Since you're with Lisa." He said it so casually. So matter-of-factly. It wasn't like him.

Dean pushed the thought away. At least Sam had wanted to talk after all.

"Yeah," he said uneasily. "I mean...we probably shouldn't. Much, I mean. I..." He swallowed. "I fucking hate to be some cheating asshole. I know I haven't had a lot of relationships, but I always thought sleeping around on someone was bullshit. But like..." He looked helplessly at Sam, who was watching him carefully. "It's us, man. It's been so long, and I thought you were gone for good, and I just – "

Dean shut his mouth before any more unprecedented honesty could come spilling out. Even though they'd been having sex pretty regularly ever since Sam left Stanford, Dean still thought about it as little as possible and talked about it even less. He was always afraid the guilt would eat him alive if he looked at it too long.

"Sure," Sam said gently. "I get it." He leaned in and mouthed along Dean's jaw.

"Fuck, I missed you, Sammy," Dean choked out, before he could stop himself.

"Missed you too, Dean," Sam murmured against his skin, scraping his teeth on Dean's neck. He sounded so calm. Why did he always sound so calm now?

The thought flew from Dean's mind as Sam kissed him again. Sam ground his pelvis against Dean's, his hard length pressing into Dean's hip. Dean groaned, half-hard himself and rising fast.

Sam dragged him over to one of the beds and guided him down onto it, just slowly enough that it wasn't a push. He stripped Dean fast, with such efficiency that Dean barely knew what was happening until he was naked. Sam hopped off the bed and removed his own clothes. Dean propped himself up on his elbows and watched, wishing Sam had let Dean undress him. Although the show wasn't half bad. Sam had put on a lot of muscle this past year.

It hurt, thinking how Sam had been around all that time and had never come to see him. Dean tried not to think about it. They were together now; that was what mattered.

Sam looked him up and down, a hungry expression on his face.

"Gotta say, Dean, no one gets me going quite like you," he murmured, rejoining Dean on the bed.

"How many comparisons do you even have?" Dean asked.

"More now," Sam said. "I got kind of into one-night stands this year."

Dean tried to ignore a lurch of jealousy. He'd never really cared about Sam's other partners before. Their thing was their thing. Heck, he'd hooked up more than Sam ever did.

Maybe that was the problem.

"Oh yeah?" Dean said, trying to sound as blasé as Sam did.

"Yeah, I can see why you like them," Sam replied. He pressed a kiss to Dean's sternum. "So, are you going to let me fuck you, or are you in the mood for something else?"

Sam's hand on the back of Dean's neck felt pleasantly possessive, and Dean thought yeah, he might enjoy getting fucked. Sam inside him and the way he'd ache the next morning would remind him that Sam was back, for real. And maybe things would feel normal between them again.

"You can fuck me, sure," Dean said. Sam flashed a grin at him and kissed his way down Dean's torso, his hands warm on Dean's sides, sliding down to his thighs.

The blowjob was expert; he'd gotten even better at giving head, and he hadn't exactly been a slouch before. There was no sloppiness anymore – and none of the desperate desire Dean used to feel from him. By the time Sam pulled off him, Dean was breathing hard and fisting his hands in the bedspread, trying to keep from coming too soon. But he still felt weird. It seemed hollow somehow.

Sam kissed him (sincerely enough, Dean thought), and Dean curled his hand around Sam's cock. Sam made a noise of pleasure and thrust into Dean's fist, panting, face buried in Dean’s neck. Dean finally started to feel like he was in familiar territory. But it wasn't long before Sam was urging Dean to turn over, moving him with firm touches.

Dean went. It seemed natural to obey, although he still didn't feel entirely at ease. Sam kissed down Dean's spine, perfunctorily, not lingering. He always used to linger...But it still felt good, and so did Sam's fingers, working Dean open and making him gasp when Sam found his prostate.

Dean still couldn't make himself entirely relax, though, and when Sam tried to slide a third finger into him, he tensed.

Sam paused. "You okay?" he asked, sounding cautious, but not exactly worried. "Change your mind?"

"No, I still want to," Dean said. The lights in the room were so bright; he felt exposed. "Just gimme a second."

"Sure." Sam ran his free hand up Dean's thigh, over his ass, landing on the small of his back and rubbing in slow circles.

Dean took a deep breath. That seemed like Sam, anyway. He breathed again and forced himself to relax. This was Sam. He loved the guy more than anything. He'd wanted this for so long. Those were Sam's fingers inside him and soon it would be Sam's cock, or at least it would be if Dean could just get it together.

Dean's cock twitched with desire at the thought of it, and he pushed back against Sam's fingers. Sam chuckled, and slid a third finger in easily this time, working Dean open till Dean was making breathy little noises and biting his bottom lip so he wouldn't just start begging.

"All right, already," he snapped. "I'm ready, dude, _fuck_."

"Just wanted to be sure," Sam murmured. Dean could hear the smirk in his voice, the little shit.

Well, not _little_. When Sam had put the condom on and slicked himself up and started pushing in, Dean remembered viscerally how big his brother really was. He blew out a breath and made sure he stayed relaxed. It wasn't too difficult, because fuck, Sam felt good. _Sam._ Finally.

"You good?" Sam asked, when he was all the way in. Dean nodded.

"All good," he said. Sam pulled him upright so his chest was pressed against Dean's back. Arms wrapped around Dean's torso, he fucked into Dean with short, hard thrusts that left Dean panting and eager. Sam sunk his teeth into Dean's neck. Dean groaned, going half-limp and pliant the way he always did when Sam bit him there. Sam's arms were holding him up, though, and Dean leaned back into him.

"Missed this, didn't you?" Sam said. He sounded smug, and it made Dean want to deny it. But Sam had switched to long, slow strokes and kept hitting Dean's prostate, and what would be the point of pretending otherwise?

"Already said so," Dean muttered instead, resentfully, clutching Sam's forearm.

"Missed getting filled by your baby brother, huh?" Sam continued. Dean's whole body twitched, almost a shudder.

"Dude," he said, somewhere between aroused and utterly horrified. "You – you know you can't say that kind of – " Dean stopped talking abruptly when Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's cock.

"Yeah, you did," Sam said as Dean groaned. Sam stroked him lazily, in time with the rhythm of Sam's own hips. "I like you like this. Wanting and kinda needy."

Dean could feel a flush spreading across his face. "Would you shut up and fuck me already? Since when do you talk like this?"

"I always wanted to," Sam said. "But if it bugs you, I won't." He went quiet and bit Dean's shoulder. Dean tried to just ride the wave, breathing harder as Sam gradually started thrusting faster. The silence was somehow just as unnerving as that crazy shit Sam had been saying before. Thank god for the relentless thrust of Sam's hips, the heat of his fist as Dean fucked into it helplessly, borne by the pleasure. It was good sex – _great_ sex; no denying that. But it still seemed strange somehow. Off. It felt like he was getting screwed by a really good fucking machine, not a person. Not Sammy.

Sam twisted his wrist a little and Dean flung his head back, landing on Sam's shoulder. "Fuck," he gasped, right on the edge.

"Come for me, Dean," Sam said, low in his ear. It was a command that brooked no dissent, and Dean obeyed instinctively, letting himself go with a wordless cry. Sam stroked him through it and went a couple pumps too long, so Dean was twisting in his grip as he tried to avoid the overstimulation. Sam released him at last. His fingers dug deep into Dean's hips and he thrust hard, almost too hard, breath hot in Dean's ear. He came with a grunt, holding Dean in place when he stilled. Dean could feel Sam pulsing inside him.

Finally, Sam made a satisfied noise and released him. He pulled out, turned Dean around, and kissed him quickly.

"That was great," he said. "You want first shower?"

"Uh...nah, you take it," Dean said. Sam smiled at him and hopped off the bed.

"Sam?" Dean said, before his brother disappeared into the bathroom. Sam turned, eyebrows raised. "You – you want to sleep in the same bed tonight?" For some reason, Dean was not entirely sure _he_ wanted to share a bed with Sam, but he felt like he had to ask. And he was curious to see what Sam would say.

He thought something flickered in Sam's eyes, but it was gone in an instant. Sam nodded.

"Sure," he replied. "If you want to." He went into the bathroom and shut the door.

Dean lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, frowning. He thought about how weird Sam had been ever since he showed up. He thought about when they'd had sex in the past, and how Sam pretty much always used to curl up against him after, spooning him or putting his head on Dean's chest. Heck, in the early days, it was Dean who used to get too ashamed of their relationship after; Dean who would go for an immediate shower, or push Sam away and insist that they sleep apart. He was the one too consumed with guilt, once the rush of sex was over.

Not that Sam seemed to feel guilty. He was actually whistling when he got out of the shower. Since when did Sam whistle?

Maybe Sam felt weird about Lisa, Dean thought, as he took a quick shower he didn't really want (if Sam was going to wash off after they fucked, so was he). Maybe they were still getting to know each other after a year apart.

Both those explanations were possible. Maybe others, too. But Dean's instincts were telling him that something was seriously wrong with Sam. The kind of instincts he'd learned not to ignore. He would have to talk to Sam.

But not until the morning, he thought as he got into bed. He was ashamed of it, but he wanted one more night where he could pretend things were right with his world. Sam slung an arm around him and pulled him pretty close when he got into bed. It wasn't like before the Cage, when he would hold Dean so tight it seemed like he wanted them superglued together. But it was something. Maybe.

Dean tried to brush off his growing unease. He'd talk to Sam in the morning. And probably not have sex with him anymore. Until he knew what was going on. It wasn't right, anyway, with Lisa in the picture; Dean knew that, even if he'd needed this one time.

Dean felt a little more uneasy as he realized that he felt relieved he had a reason not to have sex with Sam again. Yeah, he'd always struggled with it and thought it was fucked up, but he'd always _wanted_ to. It was weird that the desire wasn't the same.

He drifted off to sleep with a frown on his face as he tried to puzzle out the problem.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during S6E9, "Clap Your Hands If You Believe."

Dean got out of the shower and toweled off. He'd been so rattled from his stupid goddamn _abduction_ that he'd gone into the bathroom without a change of clothing. And he was absolutely not putting his previous outfit back on.

So he went out into the room with just a towel wrapped around his waist, even though he didn't much like being naked (or nearly) in front of soul-free Sam.

Sam was on his laptop. He looked up as Dean came out of the bathroom. Dean dug around his duffel bag for clean clothes, feeling Sam's gaze on his back.

"Feel like having sex?" Sam asked casually, the way most people would say, 'Feel like having a cup of coffee?'

Dean whirled around. "What?" he demanded.

"I'll bottom, if you want. It's your turn to pitch."

Dean stared at him. Sam spread his hands.

"What?! I know we haven't since I was back, except that one welcome-back-from-Hell time, but you're not with Lisa anymore." His eyes raked down Dean's torso, and he smirked. "And you look good. And I'm horny."

"The hippie chick wasn't enough for you?!"

Sam shrugged. "We didn't get to finish, if you recall. I'm all revved up."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "You were just telling me how you don't give a fuck about me."

"Doesn't mean you're not hot." Sam rose from the little table and walked towards Dean. "Anyway, aren't you supposed to be my guide on that stuff, Jiminy?"

"I don't see how this is going to help," Dean muttered. Sam reached him and untucked his towel.

"Can't hurt," he said. The warmth of his hand on Dean's cock felt way too good. Dean couldn't help responding to it. And maybe, somehow, it would help this version of Sam remember what it was like to feel things. If that were possible. If it would do anything at all.

Sam leaned in and kissed him, slow and deep. Dean kissed him back automatically, parted his lips for Sam's tongue, let Sam stroke him to hardness. 

He felt a little outside of himself, and it seemed like no time at all before Sam was naked on the bed before him, up on his hands and knees. Sam had fucked himself on a couple fingers for less than a minute, saying he didn’t need much prep – “the hippie chick liked assplay, we got that far” – and Dean was staring down at his own wrapped, slicked cock. He was hard enough to cut diamonds. Apparently his dick didn’t mind that this wasn’t really Sam.

Dean got on the bed and positioned himself, then started to push in slowly, automatically careful.

“I like it hard,” Sam said. Dean paused.

“You do?”

“I always did.” Sam looked back at him, smirking, and Dean fought the sudden urge to punch Sam right in his stupid mouth. It wasn’t that he didn’t know Sam liked it rough, at least some of the time. But he’d never minded Dean’s care and attention.

This version of him probably would, right? He wouldn’t have any interest in Dean caring about him, except inasmuch as he wanted Dean’s help getting his soul back.

Well, that was just fine.

Dean shoved the rest of the way in. The tight heat was a shock to his system, pleasure flooding his veins to mingle with the anger already building there. Sam groaned.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just like that.”

Dean paused again, just to annoy Sam. Sure enough, after a few seconds Sam made an impatient little movement.

“Go on,” he said.

“When I’m ready,” Dean snapped. More anger bled into his voice than he’d meant to reveal. Sam smirked over his shoulder again, and Dean pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in, a few times.

“Harder,” Sam panted.

Dean growled, gripping Sam’s hips tight enough to bruise. He let himself go, slamming into Sam in fast strokes. He thought about how Sam had let him get turned into a vampire. He thought about Sam’s little digs and quips. He thought about Sam faking having emotions. He thought about Sam saying “I don’t even really care about _you_.”

He would’ve never let himself angry fuck Sam like this. Hard, rough, a little pissed off, sure – but not with this rage he felt suddenly boiling inside him. This way, he could hurt Sam, and he wouldn’t do that, not during sex. Bad enough to think about the times they’d punched each other in anger, or spat cruel words at each other. Bad enough that he fucked his brother at all; he couldn’t compound that guilt with careless injury.

But this _wasn’t Sam_. This was a stranger who had stolen Sam’s face and memories and pretended to be Dean’s brother.

The stranger was gasping and cursing, head thrown back in pleasure. He’d wrapped a hand around his cock and was jerking it frantically. He came with a guttural moan. The noise shocked Dean; he sounded just like Sam. It triggered Dean’s orgasm, faster than he’d meant to come. He shot with relief, glad it was over, squeezing Sam’s hips even harder. He hoped it’d bruise. He wanted to claim Sam’s body – for himself, but also for Sam, the _real_ Sam.

Right on the heels of the orgasm came a wave of black emotion; guilt and shame, but not for fucking his little brother, like usual. It took Dean a second to figure it out. When he finally did, his head spun. He felt like he’d cheated on Sam.

Which was utterly ridiculous. They’d never been exclusive, and after all, this kind of _was_ Sam. But Dean couldn’t help it. The guilt gnawed at him, worse as he pulled out and saw the bruises he’d wanted so badly already starting to form on Sam’s hips.

“You okay?” he asked hoarsely, before he could stop himself. Sam rolled over and grinned at him, stretching.

“I’m great,” he said. “I don’t remember you being that rough before. It was perfect.” He hopped up from the bed.

“We should do this again sometime,” he called over his shoulder. The bathroom door closed behind him.

 _No way,_ Dean thought, still kneeling on the bed. _Not until you’re you again._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during and immediately after S6E12, "Like A Virgin."

Sam’s arms around him made it clear to Dean that he finally had his brother back. Soulless Sam hadn’t hugged him like this; so tightly, his body bent to be closer to Dean, his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean put a tentative arm around him, hardly daring to believe it was true, before finally letting his eyes close and relaxing into it. He let go before he wanted to, mindful of Bobby’s eyes on them.

It was even better than he’d imagined, having Sam back. And Dean wanted to go to him that night and welcome him back properly. But they were at Bobby’s. And Sam needed his rest. Dean put it out of his head.

They were on the road most of the next night, getting into town a little before dawn. Dean collapsed into the motel room bed for a few hours’ shut-eye before they started their investigation, too exhausted for sex.

The next night, Dean was out of excuses, and he realized it hadn’t been because they were at Bobby’s. Hell, they’d screwed around at Bobby’s before, although Dean tried to avoid it because it made him feel even guiltier than usual, plus he was terrified of being caught in the act. And that morning, he’d been relieved he was too tired to get it up. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with Sam. God help him, he wanted it so badly he ached. But everything still felt all weird. Keeping secrets from Sam about Sam’s own history this past year and a half. The things he and soul-free Sam had done…

Dean’s gut twisted and he tried not to think about it anymore. Luckily, Sam wasn’t initiating, either. He seemed to know something was up. Well, of course he did; that was Sam, the intuitive bastard. Fuck, it was so good to have him back. Dean wished he could tell him – but no, he told himself firmly. That wall had to stay up, or who knew what would happen to his brother?

He _really_ should have explained the situation to Cas, Dean thought later, as they sat in Bobby’s garage and Sam told him how Cas had spilled the beans. It was terrifying to worry about what could happen now that Sam knew. But it was a profound relief, too. Dean could feel a tiny bit less guilty, at least. He’d been keeping the secret for Sam’s own good, of course, and he would’ve kept doing it if Cas hadn’t fucked it all up. Still, though. It was nice not to have to lie to Sam anymore.

They left Bobby’s the next day. Their first night in a motel room, Sam went out to get them beers and found _Speed_ on HBO for Dean. Dean found this extremely suspicious, but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He enjoyed a few beers with the movie. When it was over, Sam shut off the TV and sat up on his bed, swinging his legs over the side and looking seriously at Dean.

“Dean,” he said quietly.

“Oh god,” Dean groaned. “You’ve got that look like you want to have a talk.”

Sam’s eyes were big and soft and serious. Even if that look didn’t usually work on Dean way better than Dean wanted it to, he knew he’d missed it so much that he was completely screwed.

“I want to ask you something,” Sam said.

Dean sat up so he was on the edge of his own bed, facing Sam. He gestured with his beer, resigned. “Shoot.”

“Did we…” Sam swallowed. “These past six months, did we – do anything?”

Dean wanted to feign ignorance, but Sam looked to be in the stubborn mood, and he knew that if he asked for clarification, ‘do anything’ would quickly turn into ‘hook up’ or something else equally horrifying to hear baldly stated with all the lights on. He considered lying to Sam, but fuck, he couldn’t face it. He just wanted things to be good between them again.

God, he hoped Sam wouldn’t be pissed.

Dean took a deep breath and a swallow of beer, while Sam watched him silently.

“Yeah,” Dean said finally. “Uh, just a couple times.”

“How – how was it?” Sam asked. Dean’s eyes widened, and Sam shook his head quickly. “I mean – was I – did I treat you okay?” His expression was heartbreaking. “After hearing about what I did – to Bobby, especially, I was so afraid…”

Dean held up a hand. “You were fine,” he said. “Look, you weren’t trying to murder family members the whole time, okay? It wasn’t that extreme. You really only did that because you thought you didn’t have any other choice. You weren’t evil, just…” He shrugged. “You just didn’t care.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. So I didn’t – hurt you, or – “

“Nah, man. The first time, it wasn’t even that different, except something seemed kinda off. Neither of us knew you didn’t have your soul yet, and I think you were trying to pretend to still be normal.”

“And after we knew?” Sam asked, eyes intent on Dean’s face.

Dean shrugged again, trying to remain nonchalant and not let Sam see how much that second time had bothered him. “I don’t know, man. It was fine. You weren’t a dick to me or anything. I mean it was sort of weird, because I knew you didn’t give a fuck about me, so it seemed more like a one-night stand, but – ”

Sam’s eyes had gone bigger and, fuck, a little wet. He moved to sit on Dean’s bed, so close their thighs were pressed together, and his hand landed on Dean’s knee.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” he said miserably.

“It’s fine, Sammy, ’s fine,” Dean replied, the words coming out too high and swift to be really believable.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said again. He squeezed Dean’s knee. “Can I – can I make it up to you?”

Dean’s throat felt tight. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. The last thing he wanted was for Sam to feel obligated to have sex with him.

Sam slid his hand off Dean’s leg. He laced his fingers together between his knees, bowing his head so his hair fell into his face. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I get why you wouldn’t want to, after that.”

Dean felt anxiety spike in his chest; damn it, he’d just gotten Sam back for real, how had he managed to fuck this up already?

“No, no,” he said hurriedly. “That’s not what I meant, man, I just don’t want you thinking you owe me an apology or something.”

Sam looked at him again, expression hopeful. “Dean,” he said softly. “I don’t remember time passing like you do, but I – when I threw myself into the Cage, I thought – I thought I’d never see you again, and I…” His voice broke. Without even thinking about it, Dean grabbed the back of Sam’s neck and leaned in, pressing his lips to Sam’s in a desperate kiss.

Sam made a needy noise against his mouth and kissed him back hard. His fingers scrabbled at Dean’s clothes and Dean found he was undressing Sam too, frantic with desire and relief at how right this felt.

It was nothing like it had been when Sam hadn’t had his soul. It was intense and warm and personal. Sam even breathed differently, little gasps puffed out against Dean’s skin. Sam’s hands and lips were gentle on Dean’s skin, kissing and touching him all over so thoroughly that Dean started to wonder if Sam was trying to erase his soulless self from Dean’s skin. Sam swallowed Dean’s cock like he was hungry for it, sloppy and so fucking good. Dean buried his hand in Sam’s hair and let himself go, not even trying to hold back. It didn’t take long before he was coming with a groan, feeling Sam’s throat work around the head of his cock as Sam swallowed his release.

And then Sam was looming over Dean and Dean was fisting Sam’s cock fast, feeling the muscles of Sam’s back work under his other hand. Sam kissed him and kissed him, and then he just leaned his forehead against Dean’s and let his hips piston until he spurted over Dean’s hand with a sharp cry of pleasure.

Sam kissed him again and then curled up against him, laying his head on Dean’s chest. Dean stroked Sam’s hair, feeling a little dazed. He waited for the usual guilt to overtake him, but for once, it was more like an echo of the feeling. It was such a stark relief to have Sam back – the real Sam, _his_ Sam – that he couldn’t seem to find room for much additional emotion.

“So fucking glad you’re here, Sammy,” Dean said.

Sam hummed against Dean’s skin and kissed his chest. “Me, too,” he said quietly.

Sam didn’t jump up to take a shower before they fell asleep. As a result, Dean woke up with Sam’s spunk dried onto his stomach. He’d never been so fucking happy to get to complain about that.


End file.
